


Blush

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal doesn't want Will to be a girl. He just wants Will to enjoy all the nice things he buys for him to wear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush

1\. 

When Will enters the room, Hannibal doesn't let it interrupt him. He continues playing his composition on the theremin, until he looks up and sees that Will is still leaning in the doorway, looking like he wants to say something. He takes his hands away from the instrument, so that Will is finally allowed to quip, “Sorry to interrupt. I heard the creepy music and I thought we were watching _Plan Nine From Outer Space_.” 

Will saunters over to Hannibal, murmuring, “Very disappointed to just find you here.” He seats himself beside Hannibal, and puts a hand out to indicate that he would like to play. Will is not particularly musically inclined, but Hannibal has taught him the basic technique. Will moves his hand back and forth in a perfunctory but very deliberate manner. After he has produced several notes, Hannibal grasps his wrist and forcibly stops him from playing. “How many times must I tell you, Will: no _Stairway to Heaven_.” 

But he quickly slides his disciplinary hand down so that instead of grasping Will's wrist, it is gently covering Will's hand, and he leans in to nuzzle behind Will's ear, humming his forgiveness. Will nudges him back, encourages him, and Hannibal wraps his arms around Will and begins inundating him with kisses, all over his face and neck. 

“Ah yes,” Will says, in a moment when his mouth is unoccupied. “We're going hunting tomorrow, aren't we? You always get like this when we're about to go hunting. You know, it's one thing to kill people and cook and eat their organs, but getting a boner about it? That just kind of makes you a big weirdo.” 

Will feels a little power when he makes snarky remarks like this. Since they day they met, he has always been allowed to be just as sharp and sassy as he likes, and has never paid for it by being eaten. Well, there was that _one_ time, but to be fair Will had tried to stab Hannibal that day, so he didn't have much moral high ground. The fact is, all couples have their little quarrels; the important thing is good communication and forgiveness of each other’s imperfections. 

And to Will's satisfaction, Hannibal is happy to forgive him for being a right little shit sometimes. In fact, he sometimes seems to delight in it. Today he says, in half-hearted protest, “It didn’t always feel…that way…about hunting. Only after I met you. It's you that does this to me, the thought of you and I, doing it _together_.” 

“Oh, you've got a little crush, hm? So it turns out you’re just a dirty old man.” Will’s hand finds Hannibal’s erection beneath his trousers, gives the length of it a firm stroke. Putting on a worried tone, he says, “It's not natural for an old man like you to be this hard.” 

“I beg to differ,” Hannibal says. “Reacting to you this way seems the most natural thing in the world. Does it really make me a dirty old man?” 

“Well, let’s see: you gawp at me like you’re paid by the hour to do it, you fail miserably at pretending that you’re the one in charge, and you like it when I wear the clothes you buy for me. So, yeah, that’s pretty much what you are.” Will chuckles at his own informal analysis. “I'll bet you'd even like it if I called you 'Daddy.'” 

Will teases Hannibal with a gentle head-butt. He does not notice that Hannibal’s gaze becomes unfocused as he replies, “You know, I think I might.”

  

 

2.  

The gift box and its ribbon are solid black. “I don’t need any more scarves,” Will protests, when Hannibal offers it to him. “It’s all I can do keep the six you’ve already bought for me in heavy rotation, so your feelings don’t get hurt.” 

Hannibal says nothing, but nods when Will looks to him for confirmation that it is time to open the box and see what’s inside. He pulls the ribbon and sets it carefully aside, then presses his fingers along each side of the box to lift the lid. 

His initial reaction is confusion; someone must have accidentally swapped this box with the one intended for him, because the color of the fabric is so strange. And indeed, when he lifts the item out, he finds it to be a sumptuous, blush-colored satin silk chemise. He looks at Hannibal apologetically for this apparent mix-up, but what he sees in Hannibal's face is eagerness and delight. This is the intended gift, and it is for him to wear. 

“I understand now,” Will says, dry as the desert, “when women say, 'This isn't a present for me, it's a present for you.'” 

The chemise is entirely unadorned: no lace trim, no embroidery, just a solid swath of pure silk. Will is not sure he's ever seen a shade of pink so delicate, yet so provocative. He imagines Hannibal asking the clerk, _Do you have this in a color that matches my partner's sex-flush?_

“What are your misgivings about it?” Hannibal asks without irony, as though Will is concerned it might just be the wrong size. 

But Will is so used to Hannibal’s idiosyncrasies by now, he easily makes the leap from gut reaction to logistics. “I'm worried,” he says, “that you are going to demand that I shave off all my body hair when I wear this, and that shit itches like crazy when it grows back.” 

“You are wrong,” Hannibal reassures him. “I want you to wear this looking just how you are.” 

Will waits so long to respond, Hannibal thinks that he must be growing increasingly skeptical about the situation. But at last, Will says, “Really? The beard and everything?” 

Hannibal tilts his head “Am I being a 'big weirdo' again?” 

Will is intrigued by the sumptuous fabric. He lets it slide through his hands, as if weighing it in judgment. “No, you know what? I'll take it. You got yourself a deal. Would you like me to try it on now?” 

The twinkle in Hannibal's eye and the twitch at the corner of his mouth tells Will that yes, Hannibal is positively ecstatic at the idea. And so Will excuses himself to the bathroom with the box. He trusts that Hannibal will not insist he change into it right there in front of him, as Hannibal values theatrics above all. 

In the privacy of the bathroom, Will strips naked, and examines himself in the large mirror over the sink, as if for the first time. Why would Hannibal want to put such a silky, delicate thing on this male body? It does not seem in line with his tastes, aesthetically. But Will has to admit, when he opens the box and touches the smooth satin again, there is no reason why anyone wouldn't want to feel it on their skin. 

When he holds it up against his body by the narrow straps, he can see that it is large enough to fit him, but it is so light and delicate, he can crumple the entire thing in his fist and not see a stitch of it through his fingers. He slips it over his head in one sweeping gesture, and it tumbles down in a silky cascade over his chest and belly, coming to rest against his thighs. 

As he gazes at himself in the mirror, without thinking he reflexively strokes his beard. The big eyes, the soft curls in his hair, he knows these are not the features that contrast with what he is wearing. But the beard is pretty undeniable. And when he lifts his hand to touch it, the dark hair on his forearms adds to the incongruity. 

When he drops his hand, he uses it to smooth the fabric down his front, press it against himself. The outline of his cock is apparent, and becoming more so, as he is just beginning to get an erection. He pinches the hem between two fingers and slowly lifts it, so the pink satin frames the dark hair around his cock. “Jesus,” is his knee-jerk reaction, and he drops the hem, but the memory of that lewd glimpse will make him squirm every time he thinks of it. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, Hannibal is reclining in bed, wearing his heavy black robe and nothing else. The moment he sees Will, he looks so utterly pleased that Will feels a fresh pang of self-consciousness. He pads slowly to the side of the bed, and sits on the edge. Hannibal is having none of this, and leans forward to pull Will fully onto the mattress, manhandling him until Will is properly in his lap. “There’s no need to be anxious,” he soothes. “You look stunning. Don’t you feel good? Just a little bit?” 

“A little bit, yeah,” Will says with a jerky nod. 

Hannibal fondles the fabric where it settles on Will’s thighs. “Yes. I know you like it when Daddy buys you nice things.” 

Will freezes at this word that Hannibal has never used in bed before. Then he thinks back to that night, when he was teasing Hannibal about being a dirty old man. _This is all my fault,_ he realizes. _Shame on me for giving Hannibal an idea._

With both hands, Hannibal touches Will all over, at first just those places covered in silk, but then on to Will’s bare skin. His enthusiasm is contagious; Will finds himself becoming less tense about the incongruities of the situation, and more aroused, more willing to exist in the moment. He enjoys being fondled like this, being gently taken possession of, though he never asks for it, because he has always worried that it’s a silly thing to want, despite knowing that he should follow Hannibal’s example, and care not for how any craving might be perceived by others. Soon, he does not begrudge what he is wearing at all, because it is facilitating an avalanche of gentle affection. 

Hannibal scoots himself down until his shoulders are resting on the pillows, and grabs Will’s ass to guide him forward, inviting Will into his mouth. When he fastens his lips around the head of his cock, Will is overcome by a blurry shiver. He can’t help but look down, because he loves watching his cock going in and out of Hannibal’s mouth. But by doing this, he is confronted once again by the shimmering pink silk brushing against his dark pubic hair and just barely tickling his balls, its rosy hue nearly matching the shade of both his cock and the mouth that is keeping it sweetly confined. 

Just as Will is feeling the first inkling of a vague need to come, Hannibal lets him slip out. He bids Will lift himself up for a moment, so that he can open his robe. He then resettles Will, grips his own cock at the base, and pushes it against Will’s belly, reveling once more in the feel of the satin. His breaths are coming in soft little pants as he becomes more ardent, struggling to touch more and more of Will. Too transfixed to complete the task himself, he breathily instructs, “Get the lube for me, darling.” 

Will leans over so he can open the nightstand drawer, and then hands over the bottle of lube to Hannibal. Hannibal tugs at the hem of the chemise once before finally letting go of Will, and says to him, “Lift this up,” as he takes the bottle from him. Will obeys, clutching the chemise and sliding it up to his waist. He gasps when Hannibal reaches around to part his cheeks, so that he feels the cool air on his exposed hole, then bites his lip to keep from crying out when a lubricated finger wiggles up inside him. 

Will can be impatient about this part sometimes; the first finger is a tease, and the second finger just makes him long for the girth of Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal has never managed to convince him of the value of fingering for its own sake, but still he insists on slowing things down, makes ever sure that Will is thoroughly slick and loose first, so that when the time comes, he can work himself easily on Hannibal's cock. 

“You're so delicate inside,” Hannibal coos tonight. “Daddy’s big, and he doesn't want to hurt you.” 

Hannibal slides his fingers out, slow and gentle, then sets the bottle aside before returning his hands to Will, one on his hip, the other sliding underneath his cock and balls, to feel his hole again. “You're so wet for Daddy,” he marvels, and when he sees Will blush, he reassures him, “Daddy got wet, too. Here, my darling, feel.” He holds his cock as if he’s presenting it to Will for the first time. Will can see that a shiny fat bead of pre-come has gathered at the tip. He touches it with the tip of his first finger, then puts his hand to his mouth and rubs the wetness across his lower lip. “You naughty thing,” Hannibal teases when he sees this. 

Will tilts his hips so he’s finally lined up with Hannibal’s cock. Everything is so calm and deliberate, and he is so well-slicked, that he just brings Hannibal inside in one stroke. It takes a moment for Hannibal to recover from the initial succulent shock of penetration, but soon he begins to rock himself up against Will's ass, pressing it even more snugly against himself. Will hardly needs to move at all – Hannibal is doing all the work for both of them, holding Will with an iron grip and moving him up and down, back and forth on his cock, in every direction possible, touching everywhere inside. 

And Will loves it, to be handled like this, gently dominated, and putting on this flimsy bit of silk has increased Hannibal's desire to do this, all while sharing his filthy observations about Will's body, how willing it is, and about what it feels like to be inside it. Everything they do is so much more obscene, now. When Will spreads his legs further apart and feels the satin shift across his skin as he rises and falls on Hannibal's shaft. When he moans and fidgets, and a strap falls from his shoulder. He is a writhing creature of irredeemable sin, wearing this chemise. 

And Hannibal is treating him like it. Never before has Will seen Hannibal lose his cool so badly before. Never has he seen Hannibal reduced to such a babbling mess, crying out in worship. Will has made a journey from hot, cringing embarrassment to playful confidence, and decides, between convulsive breaths and sighs, that it would be fun to tease Hannibal by pushing back hard, struggling in Hannibal’s grip to do just what Hannibal wants him to do, and gasping, “Does Daddy like this?” 

If Hannibal has been uncharacteristically excited up until now, Will's simple utterance drives him into a frenzy. Suddenly he feels he has insufficient leverage to thrust, with Will in his lap; but an arm around Will's waist and a twist of their bodies fixes that, as Hannibal pins Will underneath him. His cock slips out as they turn, but Hannibal has it back in before Will can even complete the bereft groan that the abrupt feeling of emptiness elicits. Will is just fine with the change of position; it was nice to be on top, but it is even better to be underneath Hannibal, and just be _plundered_. And Hannibal does not disappoint. Within moments, Will is being fucked so hard, so deeply, that he can't even muster a lengthy moan, but is reduced to guttural grunts as Hannibal’s hips slam against his ass. 

The straps of the chemise had fallen from his shoulders when he’d been in Hannibal’s lap, and now the neckline is stretched across his chest, rubbing back and forth across his nipples with the rhythm of their fucking. Hannibal keeps his kisses to the corners of Will's lips, so that Will’s mouth can stay open, to gasp and moan and sigh at all the warring pleasurable sensations. With each plunge, the muscles in Hannibal's thighs tighten as if he is attempting to leap further inside. When he wants even more, he grasps Will's legs behind the knees and pushes them further up and apart, so he can look at where their bodies are joined, can watch himself penetrating Will. Will examines Hannibal's expression, and finds it not at all lascivious, but instead full of fond devotion, comically benign considering the filthy sight it is reacting to. He looks as though he is beholding a Baroque cathedral ceiling, rather than his own cock plunging into Will's thoroughly-lubricated but increasingly raw and tender asshole. 

Every dizzying reverberation of pleasure makes it harder to fight the tremendous orgasm Will knows is imminent. He absolutely must pursue it, now, and so he reaches down with both hands to jerk himself to completion. As he does, his fingers catch some of the fabric, wrapping it around his shaft as he pulls. This is a most fortuitous accident, and makes these final moments of ecstasy even more lascivious. He shoots almost painfully hard into the satin, crying out with the filthy joy of it. The rest is a blur; he can barely comprehend Hannibal’s final, frantic lunges. Everything is slick and throbbing, from the taut muscular limbs around him to the hot jerking cock inside him. 

More than satiated, they are now absolutely glutted, and Hannibal tumbles onto the mattress beside Will, still refusing to take his eyes off of his treasure, examining Will for all evidence of total gratification. 

But Will knows that Hannibal always appreciates one last little thrill, so he looks Hannibal in the eyes and says, his voice soft and tantalizing, “Daddy, I'm sore down there now. Will you kiss it and make it better?” 

Refusing to acknowledge such a thing as exhaustion, Hannibal replies sweetly, “Of course I will, darling.” Will had closed his legs a little, and keeps them that way now, so that Hannibal has to push them open himself once more. He buries his face between Will’s thighs and unhesitatingly laps at the hole that he's made so tender, never failing to worship Will unconditionally in every way. 

Will does find genuine relief in the soothing warmth of Hannibal’s tongue, but he can’t help but smile haughtily at the lewd wet sounds being made by this humbling act, and thinks about how generous Hannibal is, gifting him with an article of clothing that has essentially transferred all of Hannibal’s remaining power in the bedroom directly to him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> berlynn-wohl.tumblr.com for more of this sort of nonsense.


End file.
